


Sand Between My Toes

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Time, Language, M/M, saltwater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny goes for a walk on the beach. It’s not the calm thing it sounds like. But you probably could have guessed that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sand Between My Toes

**Author's Note:**

> Danny seems to swear a lot when he’s trying to resist admitting how he feels about Steve. Sorry about that. This story had a mind of its own from the beginning…. I just tried to hold on for the ride… Kinda like Danno. :-)
> 
> (My first time posting something with *ahem* steamy bits….)

He needed to think. Really think. Think without talking. And for that, he needed to be moving.

Danny had a few spots he went to for thinking. Places he drove to, to look at a view. Sometimes the driving helped. Sometimes the breeze helped.

But sometimes he needed to be walking, in order to really get the thinking done.

And, today, Danny had a lot of thinking to get done. Crazy, messed up thinking. Insane thinking. OhmyGodamIreallydoingthis thinking.

He wouldn’t admit it, but lately, he’d been walking barefoot in the sand when he needed that kind of thinking done. And he really wouldn’t admit that _that_ thinking almost always—ok, always always—had to do with Steve. He might have kicked the sand a little bit as he tried to not admit that to himself. But, ok, he might admit… he’d been thinking about Steve a whole lot lately. _Shit_.

It had started… yeah, ok, he wasn’t going to admit when it had started, either. But, it was like all the time now, and it just wouldn’t _shut the fuck up_.

The good thing about the walking while thinking was that it cancelled out the pacing and the kind of frantic gesturing that sometimes went along with the pacing. When he was walking and thinking, it probably just looked like he was out for exercise. Jesus, like he needed to seek exercise when he had Steve the freaking Energizer Bunny for a partner.

And that really was it in kind of a hyperactive completely addled nutshell, wasn’t it? Steve just ran right over him. Pounded into his life, and just kept on going, dragging Danny, without asking thank you very much, along for the ride. Literally, as Danny was never even permitted to drive his own fucking car. Jesus. It was like being pulled out to sea on an especially strong tide. Danny laughed at that. Steve was like a really big, really persistent, really obnoxious, really hot wave. Oh, God. He wanted to scream. When had he even had a chance? He couldn’t resist that pull. Crap. Ok, maybe maybe just a little bit maybe he didn’t want to maybe. Just a little. But it was a freaking moot point because geez, did Steve ever even ask? No, he didn’t, thank you for asking, he just took and took and bowled right over and insinuated himself in every stinking nook and cranny, every pore, every fiber, every grain of stupid fucking sand between Danny’s poor battered toes.

Danny stopped and stared out at the ocean. He wanted to yell at it, to leave him alone, to stop already with the ceaseless waves, the endless tides, the stupid smell of salt and moisture that clung to Danny, crept inside his soul, crawled into his innermost being and just _sat_ there, on his heart, until he just couldn’t live without it. And, yeah, ok, so maybe he meant Steve and not the sea, but sometimes, really, he couldn’t even tell the difference anymore.

Turning around and heading back the way he’d come, Danny slowed his pace—his anger had faded, his energy muted slightly. He sighed. Really, he just didn’t have a choice. He was drawn to Steve and had been from the beginning, and there just wasn’t anything he could do about it, his heart just wouldn’t let him. He just wasn’t sure how he could take that step… because if anything ever… he knew he’d just _break_ and that thought made him want to throw up.

Danny walked up the path to the house, almost as if his legs were moving of their own accord. Like he was being pulled…. Damn fucking ocean tides.

Steve was standing on the lanai, drinking a beer, watching the sunset. Tee shirt pulled over his swim trunks. He’d probably been paddle boarding. Or swimming. He’d probably smell like sea water. Maybe he’d taste like it, too—  _fucking traitorous horny thoughts, dammit_.

“Where you been, Danno?” Steve asked.

“I went for a walk on the beach,” Danny sighed, as if he hadn’t done it of his own volition.

“Oh, that’s nice.” If Steve was amused, he was hiding it well.

“No.” Danny practically growled. “No, Steven,” he ground out. “It’s NOT nice. It’s so far from nice. Nice is walking on a side walk. With shoes on.” He sighed so heavily… “Nice is NOT walking on the freaking beach.”

Steve hid his smirk well, Danny had to give him that. “I’m sorry, Danno.”

“I’ve got sand between my toes,” Danny groused.

“Ok,” Steve replied, softly. Kindly. So fucking kindly.

Danny balled his hands into fists, to keep his arms from flailing about. “No,” he replied. “No, it’s not ok.”

“Yeah, Danny.” Steve said tenderly. Seriously. Fucking tenderly. Jesus. “Yeah, it is.” He was smiling, looking like it was taking everything he had to not touch Danny, waiting for Danny to make that move. But standing there, utterly exposed, offering himself, waiting.

Steve had been waiting for him for a long time, Danny realized. Not today, beyond today. Far beyond today. Shit, he really didn’t—couldn’t—think about that.

He wanted to ask him why. God, why him, just… _why_. But he knew it was kind of beyond that. This wasn’t a reasonable thing. Nothing about this was reasonable. So freaking far from reasonable. All of it, from the damn beginning, the very very beginning. Steve just fucking swept in and swooped up everything in his path, everything he wanted, just… swooped.

Well, maybe it was time Danny swooped right back.

He reached up and grabbed Steve by the sides of his face and pulled him into a crushing kiss. He almost sobbed into it, and Steve melted—yeah, fucking melted—against him, like he couldn’t even stand anymore, he’d been holding, waiting, waiting, for so long. It nearly choked Danny, that relief crashing over Steve, it was just so much to take. Suddenly, there were far too many clothes in the way. Danny pushed Steve against the door, his hands working their way up Steve’s chest, his glorious chest, under his too tight tee shirt. “Dammit,” he swore softly as he grabbed the hem of the shirt and tried to pull it off over Steve’s head.

Steve broke the kiss for long enough to get the shirt off, then grabbed Danny’s face in his hands. “Ok. Ok. It’s ok.” He smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

Danny whimpered at that, reveling in the way the fading sun flecked off Steve’s chest. He put his hands over Steve’s on his face. He knew he looked, frankly probably a mess, but he was so far past even being able to care. “No,” he whispered, brokenly. “Here, right here. In the sun... where I can hear the waves... feel the sand....”

Steve wrapped his arms around Danny, and flipped them around, so Danny was up against the wall of the house, facing out to the beach. “Ok, Danno,” he said, voice lush with affection, and understanding, and acceptance. Steve kept his body pressed against Danny’s till he calmed. Kissing him, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, making soothing sounds. Danny finally broke off, somewhere between crying and laughing, but breathing closer to normal, and the tension had broken, the bubble of tension that had been building up between them had popped, and oh, God, the relief. He didn’t notice till Steve wiped them away that there were tears streaming down his face. Stepping away to collect his beer from the railing, Steve handed it to Danny, who took a huge swallow of it. Steve held out his hand. The expression on his face was lovely. Ok, yeah, he looked a bit like the cat who got the cream, but his eyes were so full of love.... Danny took Steve’s hand, as he knew he always would, and allowed himself to be led to the beach.

Steve pulled Danny’s tee shirt off over his head, and pulled him towards the water. Danny once again had no control of his legs, they just led him into the pull of the waves.  Once they were in deep enough (and believe me, the symbolism was _not_ lost on Danny), Steve swooped Danny into his arms, wrapping himself around him like some sort of sea monster, and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

Danny was completely and utterly and totally overwhelmed and swept away and bowled over and just absolutely _done for_. The tide pulled at his body, but Steve held him in place, rooted to him like some fixed point. The tears he had cried mingled with the salt water, and washed away, leaving only the kisses, only the caresses... of the waves, of Steve’s hands... it all swirled and combined and blended together, and it was terrifying, and exhilarating, and wonderful, and just _right_.

After a while, the desperate need for kisses faded into the need to just touch… so much, everywhere, all of it… and Steve led them onto the sand. He pulled Danny on top of him, and just held him so tightly. “God, Danny,” and now it was Steve’s turn to sound choked up. Danny huffed a laugh at that, and snuggled against Steve’s chest, barely able to believe he was doing it. Steve was cradling Danny’s head in his hands, like it was the most precious thing on the planet. Danny sighed, so deeply, and Steve held him tighter. “I’ve got you,” Steve whispered, and it was hard to tell if he meant it as a reassurance to Danny, or to himself—his tone was somewhere between certainty and awe, and Danny didn’t think he’d ever get used to having Steve sound like that about _him_.

Eventually, Danny pushed himself up and reached for Steve, to pull him up. His turn to lead, he thought, and he walked back up to the house, not bothering to rinse off, not caring there’d be sand in the house for weeks, wanting there to always be a little of the sand that had coated their bodies around, because it would remind him that this was real… oh, God, so _very_ freaking real.

They climbed into the shower together, tossing their trunks in the sink, soaping each other slowly, lovingly, mesmerized by each other, by being allowed to do this. Once Danny had determined they were clean enough, they dried off just a little, and Steve tumbled them into bed, making Danny laugh—a real laugh, a relaxed, relieved, happy laugh, which made Steve grin enormously, and pull back to gaze, longingly, adoringly, gratefully, at Danny. Then, he leaned forward to kiss him, and Danny was lost in a wave of sensations, pulled under by the weight of Steve, by the sheer force of his being, all of it focused on Danny, all of it washing over him, cleansing him, purifying him, pushing out the resistance, the frustration, the anger, the fight…. And filling him with warmth, with sunlight, with adoration, with commitment, with everything, so full. So, so full. They came together, just from the heat of it, the kisses, the touches, the pull, the inevitability of it, the rightness of it, and lay there, basking, glowing, humming with that same vibrational energy that had been pushing and pulling at them from the beginning, thrumming together, as one, at long last.... Still kissing, still caressing, still in awe, needing to just _be_.

They ended up back in the shower, washing each other with maybe a little less hesitation, a little more claiming, then back in bed, where they continued touching, exploring, learning, savoring…. And showered once more, when the grumbling of their stomachs could be ignored no longer.

Danny was wearing a pair of Steve’s Navy SEAL sweats, and Steve kept smirking at him like he was some sort of trophy. “You have to feed me,” Danny practically whined.

“Eggs and toast ok?” Steve asked.

“Yes, fine, anything, just, _food_.” Danny grabbed a beer and handed one to Steve, who took advantage of the gesture to pull Danny in for a lingering kiss. Danny swatted him away (after savoring it for a good long time), saying “Food. Please.” And leaned up against the counter to watch Steve cook.

Neither had put on a shirt, and Danny decided that Steve should always cook bare-chested. Actually, since we’re mentioning it, Danny decided there was a lot Steve should do bare-chested. He might have sighed a little, and maybe pushed himself off the counter, and wandered over to the other side of the kitchen to maybe wrap his arms around said bare chest. Steve laughed, softly, deep in his throat, and grabbed on to Danny’s arm, pulling him in close. Danny decided to be impressed with his Navy training if it meant that Steve was able to cook eggs while snuggling Danny at the same time.

They sat on the sofa to eat, and Danny couldn’t help but remember countless times they’d done just that, but oh, it was so, so much better this way. They kept leaning towards each other to kiss, and their knees were touching—not that, _oops, I accidentally brushed up against you but I’m gonna pretend I didn’t really notice and leave it here and see if maybe I get away with it_ , but actually, intentionally, firmly, and with heat touching.

By the time they were done eating (and it took a good while, if you don’t mind, _because of all the kissing_ ), they were both distinctly sleepy. Danny had, after all, had one of his walks, not to mention all the stuff after that… ahhhh, all the stuff after that. God. Steve put their plates aside, took Danny by the hand, and led him back upstairs. They climbed into bed, and Steve pulled Danny into him, holding him softly but solidly, caressing his cheek, pressing kisses there, and sighing rather a lot.

Danny rose up on an elbow to look at Steve. It was hard to tell if he was sad or content or wistful or what. Maybe all of them. Smiling, he tilted his head just slightly, to observe his partner better.

“Hey, babe,” Danny soothed, smoothing that fabulous hair at Steve’s temples, luxuriating in the fact that he could now, oh God, after just _wanting_ for so long. That might take some getting used to… and, well, learning to NOT do it, at certain times… like at work… well, crap. _That’ll be fun_ , he thought.

“Danno,” Steve exhaled. Was that… oh my God. Steve was crying. And, because he was really, at heart, a great big sap, that started Danny crying all over again.

“I know, babe,” he sighed. “I know.” He kissed him, short sweet, light, feathery kisses, all over his face, and ended by pulling him up against him, and holding him, cradling his head, like Steve had his on the beach.

“You don’t know how long…” Steve began.

“Shhhh… I know, babe,” Danny shushed him, and kissed his forehead.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Steve asked softly, and though Danny knew it was rhetorical, he also suspected that it was totally, heart-wrenchingly serious.

“Hey, hey, babe,” Danny soothed. “ _Each other_ ,” he replied, certainly. “We deserve _each other_.”

Steve smirked just slightly in response. “Yeah,” he sighed. “We do, don’t we.”

And they both laughed a little at that, and sighed, and wiped the tears away, and kissed some more, and finally, finally, they drifted off to sleep, wrapped so very tightly in each other’s arms.

 


End file.
